Storm Over Everest (review)

For those interested in the history of human confrontations with the power of nature, Storm Over Everest may very well provide some of the most potent cinematic images ever experienced. This PBS documentary brings viewers back to May 1996, to the worst climbing tragedy in Mount Everest's history, during which eight climbers, including three seasoned guides, perished.

David Breashears, heading an IMAX team on that fateful trip, returned a decade later to re-tell the tragic tale of three climbing teams that were caught in a fast-moving storm (which began as a cyclone in the Bay of Bengal) with hurricane gales and a wind-chill that plunged temperatures to 100 degrees below zero. These brutal conditions, coupled with log-jams at critical climbing junctures, such as the Hillary Step, and consequent late arrivals to the summit (where a 1 p.m. turnaround time is the golden rule), made it next to impossible for climbers descending from the summit to find their way back to the safety of their tents at Camp IV. Camp IV is at 26,300 on the Lhotse face and still considered the "Death Zone." Recreations of the now historic "storm" and of stranded climbers huddling together rocking back and forth in torment were shot at the Snowbird Ski Resort in Utah (as noted in Special Features).

The documentary's stunning cinematography, accompanied by original music, composed and produced by Jocelyn Pook, builds with intensity throughout the production, never distracting from the storyline. Sometimes reminiscent of Phillip Glass's masterful ability to marry sound with images, Pook's haunting compositions beautifully illustrate the beckoning but perilous isolation that surrounds Mount Everest.

Breashear's documentary is not his first attempt to sort out these details, nor is he alone in their retelling. Although the accident was not the primary focus of his 1998 IMAX production, Everest – a breath-taking, first-person,"climbers-eye" narrative which included panoramic vistas from "the rooftop of the world" – the film did address the infamous tragedy and the film crew's efforts to assist those in peril (which receives no mention in Storm Over Everest). The catastrophe was also the impetus for journalist Jon Krakauer's book, Into Thin Air. Krakauer, who like Breashears is an avid climber (Breashears has successfully summited Everest five times), was on the same expedition in 1996. However, Krakauer's original assignment was to write an article for Outside magazine, exposing the commercialization of Everest – that anyone reasonably fit and willing to pay up to $65,000 could get to the summit. Instead he produced an intimate and lengthy Outside piece about the tragedy in which he addresses his own guilt for having not helped other climbers more than he did. Five months later he released his best-seller and a year after that his story was made into a TV movie.

While Breashears acknowledges that "the clients were paying their way and the professional guides like Rob [Hall] and Scott [Fischer] promised access to a dream," the documentary's main objective is to relay the 1996 tragedy with a deep reverence both for the mountain and for the lives that were lost. The film also doesn't point an accusatory finger at anyone "responsible" for poor judgment or fatal decisions. Instead, in almost hushed tones, Breashears narrates while inter-cutting personal interviews with survivors Sandy Hill (formerly Sandy Pittman of whom Krakauer was particularly critical), Charlotte Fox, Makalu Gau (which Krakauer described as leader of an inexperienced Taiwanese team of climbers), Beck Weathers, and mountain guides Neal Beidleman and Michael Groom, among others.

Gau, who is intense and particularly animated, and Weathers, who had been left for dead on two separate occasions and survived only because of his own tenacity, recall their night of horror as they gesticulate with fingerless, webbed hands maimed by frostbite. Both are moved to spiritual references: Weathers as he began his trek the night before and Gau as he lay in the snow dying.

It was "kind of like moving into Golgotha," Weathers...